


The Singing Doctor

by nondeducible



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nondeducible/pseuds/nondeducible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John can't sing very well and Sherlock loves him for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eliane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliane/gifts).



> Inspired by headcanons I submitted to [sherlockeleven](http://sherlockeleven.tumblr.com) I decided to expand them into three, loosely connected 221b drabbles. Many thanks to interrosand and makanivalur for the last minute beta.

John is not a great singer. He’s not even a particularly good one. Average at best. He has a good set of lungs on him though, so he’s very handy when volume and noise levels are more important than sticking to the tune or the lyrics. He can carry a tune most of the time although that’s sometimes not the tune the author of the song originally intended.

John is aware of his shortcomings and usually sticks to quietly humming to himself when cooking or cleaning. He can be persuaded to join a group effort at karaoke, particularly after several pints. Sherlock has never commented on John’s singing but John doesn’t really want to find out what someone with Sherlock’s musical abilities thinks of his efforts.

So when Sherlock hears John singing to himself in the shower he cannot help the smile that takes over his face. John is probably unaware how well the sound travels around their flat. Sherlock can hear every missed note, every hitch in John’s voice, every made up lyric from where he’s sitting in the kitchen. He can’t help but move closer, ear against the bathroom door, muscles straining from smiling so much. 

John keeps singing off key, sometimes forgetting the words. Sherlock feels his chest grow warm with every broken note emanating from the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock is an idiot. Sherlock was an idiot and will forever remain an idiot. His idiocy, not to mention recklessness and impatience, have landed him where he is now which is in bed with four broken and two fractured ribs.

John had been very angry at first, mostly because he cared about Sherlock a great deal and hated seeing him in pain. He had also been angry because Sherlock had behaved like a reckless idiot and charged head first into a dangerous situation without sparing a thought for his own health. 

“Go to sleep,” John says for the third time since helping Sherlock get in bed. Sherlock mumbles incoherently into his pillow and refuses to let go of John’s hand. “Sherlock, please, you need--”

“‘thing t’me p’ease,” Sherlock slurrs, turning his head to look at John. He tugs at the hand in his grasp feebly. Any other time John would’ve found Sherlock’s lisp adorable but not when he’s injured and clearly off his face on painkillers. “‘lease. Thing. To thleep.”

John sighs deeply, dramatically, and climbs into bed. He settles next to him mindful of the broken ribs and starts singing quietly. Sherlock smiles, drapes an arm over John’s chest and listens.

And if all of the songs John sings are about love then it’s The Beatles who are to blame.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the first notes of Louis Armstrong’s ‘What a Wonderful World’ start playing John is on his feet, tugging Sherlock onto the dancefloor.

“John, we don’t have to dance every time,” Sherlock protests, the smile tugging at his lips betraying the lie.

“Nonsense, we are dancing until our feet fall off,” John manhandles Sherlock into position, one hand on his lower back. “I’m planning to make this marriage stick.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes but ducks his head quickly to place a chaste kiss on John’s forehead. They start swaying to the music, their loose embrace getting tighter as the song plays on. John hums contentedly, tucks his face under Sherlock’s chin and starts singing quietly.

Sherlock feels incandescent with happiness. He thinks that his body is not big enough to contain all the love and affection he feels for the man in his arms tunelessly murdering Louis Armstrong’s performance; he might burst. He thinks of their lives until this point, of what the future might hold for them both. He can see them growing old together, retiring somewhere peaceful and calm. He has always had a soft spot for Sussex Downs.

He hides his smile in the side of John’s neck and distracts himself with kissing every inch of skin under his lips.

“How do you feel about bees?”


End file.
